Not Quite Murderers
by Brownie151
Summary: Its happening all over again. Slips are drawn, two unfortunate children are sent to their slaughter and families glue themselves to their screens. And for the 24 tributes? Die or shoot to stardom. Die or live with the knowledge you sent 23 children to their dooms. Die or win. And you can’t afford to loose. (SYOT Open!) (Rated T for gore and detailed deaths)
1. Prologue

**I know I said I was going to stop writing Hunger Games stories but I like writing them too much. This might be a little slow, getting updated but it will be getting updated regularly. I want to get back into writing and gory writing is always fun so why not? I'm going to try and advance the story past like 4 chapters? I might update every few weeks on a Sunday but I'll see how much I like writing this and how much fun I have. **

**Sign Up Form For The SYOT:**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**District:**

**Gender: **

**Sexuality:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**Interview Outfit: **

**Weapon: **

**Token:**

**Small backstory:**

**Extras:**

**And a short prologue because apparently people like those:**

The Capitol huddle around their TVs, eyes gleaming and artificial smiles plastered to their faces. Who will be the next victims? Who will be the next for glory? And who will die brutally and alone? They watch the terrified youths, envying them for their young faces, their unwrinkled skin. They don't see the sunken eyes, the malnutrition, the hard lives and the emptiness. All they see are stars. All they can see is the dazzling future only one will have. The Capitol have seen all of the games, they know what's ahead for these poor, poor children and they do nothing but laugh and stare, wide-eyed as blood splatters the screens and hidden cameras see all the horrible deaths. And they relish in the fact this will never be them. They know the odds are tipped at one end and it's in theirs.

**Sorry it's short and slightly rushed. I just had a sudden urge to write and I wrote. **


	2. Chapter 1: Dawn

**My friendo gave me this character so thank you irl friendo, you're annoying but you're also pretty cool. I'm pretty excited for this story because I needed to get back into writing or my writing will go stagnant and writer's block introduces its stinky garbage self. I'll be starting at the Cornucopia because the downfall of both Scream But They Won't Hear and Cold-Blooded was because I got bored with the Capitol stages. I saw the review which was mighty helpful and I'm probably going to use the same formula as May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favour and use popularity to judge how much I wrote of one character. Also, Hi, Anna!!!!! That's all the technical writing stuffs I can think of saying. So, without further ado, I present Dawn Sundialle.**

It's cold. So cold. A lot of people are shaking. We weren't prepared for this. A freezing Arctic? That's not a satisfying games, that's instant death. I run my numbing fingers over the semi-thick jacket they gave us. It must be down, it keeps out some of the cold. Maybe chicken feathers? Who knows. My necklace hangs at my throat, swinging in the wind. I look at the Cornacopia, nerves swirling in my stomach, threatening for my last meal to reappear. I quickly calm myself but it's no use. The counter suddenly gets loud, too loud, louder than the wind's howling and loud enough to deafen you. Ten more seconds. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

And it's time, everyone rushes forward, including me. I grab a backpack quickly and head straight into the golden horn for the gleaming knives. I panic and panic and panic and panic as I grab them almost too easily. I turn to see a small girl, maybe 12, slaughtered. I run. I've got to run. I need to escape the death of a Bloodbath victim. One of my precious knives makes its way into my hand just in case. And it seems like I was right. A knife hits the snow just short of my feet. I turn around, ready to throw my blade at the culprit but they're gone, list to the wind which screams like a child. A dying child. A child I saw murdered and didn't do anything to stop! I sit down on the snow, my brain reeling. I have to keep control. I have to stay focused. Focus, focus, focus. What are my priorities? Well, staying alive for one. Food is another. So's water but I'm surrounded by snow so I don't think that'll be a problem. Shelter will be tricky. Unless there's a handy cave nearby, I doubt they'll be any. Mission 1: Shelter is a-go.

I've travelled for hours now. My feet are weary and I'm threatening to go to sleep anytime now. I can't sleep. I'll die in the cold if I let myself have the pleasure of sleep. I bet the Careers are fine. They probably hollowed our the Cornocopia and are living it up there. Or in a cave somewhere, making sure the smoke from a fire is concealed. Maybe I should head towards the vague shape of the mountains? It's the best idea I've had all day so I might as well.

I might have travelled for weeks in this blank white hellscape, the sky is clouded over and grey and nothing changes but the trail of footsteps behind you. The great mountain range grows closer and closer. I have to keep moving, night's got to be close. The grey mountains loom over me, taunting me, they look so far and yet I know they must be only a few more miles. I can't afford to stop but my feet ache and my head hurts from the cold and my joints are stiff. The Capitol must be really bored now. Just watching us walk. Maybe there's a battle somewhere but it sure as hell isnt here.

Maybe the mountain's an illusion. Maybe it doesn't exist. But I'm already nearly there. I just have to wait until I wake straight into a rock face. Or I see it in front of my face. You know, that could work. I nearly laugh to myself when I hear a high scream. I whip around, terrified. I can't see it. All I see is the white landscape. Nothing out of place. The killers must be close. I have to run. I run towards the mountains hurriedly. I can't die today, I can't die today. Please not today. The mountains get closer and closer and closer and closer. I might as well stop, I think to myself, it's not worth running and running to somewhere you don't even know exists. But I'm not stopping now, I can't stop yet.

I hit the stone wall maybe after an hour. Thank god. I scramble up, using all the footholds I can get. I tentatively place my foot a little higher. I sigh in relief. My other foot follows suit but it slips and I'm left hanging on the wall, scared out of my mind. I put it back on the ledge firmly and continue. I can't panic and fall, that's not allowed. No dying allowed here. I clamber my way up the mountain face. There's a small hanging ledge over the terrain I can use to keep the snow off. I finally open my backpack and find a sheet of some plasticy fabric, a pack of dried dates and an empty water bottle. I quickly fill the water bottle with snow. If it doesn't melt, I can just eat the snow, like how snow rabbits do. I can use the plastic as a blanket of sorts and the dates are food and food is like gold here. I've got this.


	3. Chapter 2 - Gypsum

**To reduce the amount of characters I have to write, a couple spaces will already be dead. These spaces will be what I think are the spaces that always get filled last. I'm going to try not abandoning this story this time! I don't want to stop writing this one, I have a lot of ideas for this thing. Okay, I think that's the technical stuffs over, now onto the fun! This is CrumblingPastries' character they sent me over PM and I'm just so excited for this story. I'm going to have a blast writing this. So, without further ado, I present Gypsum Surrey. **

I examine the terrain. Nothing but cliffs and a drop to your death. And white. The snow's almost annoying now. Footsteps come and go past us and as much as I'd like to follow them, I can't. I'm too weak alone. I need to team up with someone, at least one. It's always a large group the survive the longest. That is, if they don't turn and become traitors. Foreging is out of the question, all the berries will be dead. I think you can eat tree bark to some degree but I'm not that desperate. The sun seems to be setting in the gray sky, an orangey hue has spread out over the western sky. I brace myself for the strange grief. I killed a lot of people at the Bloodbath.

I'm seeing their faces again tonight.

I examine the supplies I killed those people for. A small backpack. A large backpack. A sleeping bag, designed to keep out the cold. A box of matches. I reach into backpack 1, finding a dozen knives and a pack of dried fruit. Backpack 2 proves more fruitful. It has a sheet of plastic, a long rope, a butchering knife and a small axe, like one for cutting down branches. I run my fingers along the shining metals. It's deadly. It wasn't intended to be through. It's not a war axe. War axes are tall and strong and double edged. This is small and slim, with a polished handle wrapped in leather. It's exactly what I need.

Night falls quickly here. The days seem long and dull and strange but the nights are longer. They aren't as dull though, with sparkling stars watching as you murder countless children. Screams punctuate the night's calm. But the night is kinder. It gives you lulling darkness. It gives you hope you'll live another day. The Capitol seal is shown in the sky. The anthem plays. It's meant to seem rousing but it's horrible. It goes on about Capitol victories, the glory of millions of deaths. It sings the praises of war. I hate it. The first face shows. District 3, only 12, female. Skinny little thing. I killed her. She died of a stab to the heart, nothing abnormal. Next, District 5, 15, also female. I don't know her. I don't know how she died. The Capitol will though. They watch every excruciating detail fervently. It's horrific. Next is District 6, 14, Male. My kill. The Capitol must be shooting up with my sponsors. He died unceremoniously with a knife to the brain. Blood went everywhere. He stood there for a second, unable to process the information of dying. And then he fell. I can hear the bone breaking fall over and over. Just that gut-wrenching crunch.

I look back up again. District 8, Male, 17. He smirks in the picture, his victory sure. Not my kill. I wish I knew how he was killed, I wish I was told. But I can't and I can't influence the rules. District 9 this time. Both of them. The boy was mine. I pushed him off the Cornocopia and he broke his spine and went into shock. The girl's a shock though. I remember her at the interviews. She won over so many people with her baby face and sickly sweet charm. I guess she didn't win over enough. District 10 flashes in my face. Male. Probably 13. Spotty. I killed him too. One of my gorier kills perhaps. I got him after the Bloodbath, I pinned him to a tree when he tried to steal my backpacks. I used him for target practice.

The faces are over. 7 deaths. 4 of them mine. 17 of us left. There's a lot of deaths on the first few days of course. Then it gets a little stagnant. Maybe one or two deaths a day. I remember sitting at the old couch with Mum, seeing everyone die. She'd look at me, teary-eyed and tell me one day that could be me at the Victor's ceremony. I'd promise her if I was ever on screen she'd see me there, being crowned. I know Mum has to be watching now. She saw all four of my kills. She knows that even if I come back, I won't be the same. She was a huge fan of the old superhero films. She'd watch them intently on the ancient TV she could only afford with my training successes. She always compared the Victors to the characters and there was always one line that stuck in my head and that I understand now, 'I've got red in my ledger I'd like to clear'. And I guess so do I now.

I sigh, curling up in my sleeping bag. Nostalgia for old films and my Mum don't kill people and they don't give me a crown of blades. I sleep fairly undisturbed, no dreams thankfully. I feel like the only good dreams here are the ones without anything. Black dreams, I like to call them. I wake up to a rosy dawn and a shadow over me. I'm startled awake and I look at a boy looming over my sleeping bag. He's unassuming. A Career too, I'd suppose. He holds out his hand and smirks. "I've been looking for you."

**Yay for pop culture references in fics! Also yay for my character I didn't want to add straight away! l think this chapter hit over 1000 words so yay for me writing a lot! I went camping for 5 days and didn't write at all when I was there so that's why it's a little later than I would have liked. I have 0 intentions of abandoning this story, please don't be worried about that! Thank you for reading this chapter! **


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